


Hope Springs Eternal

by Sermocinare



Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Gen, Transformation, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sermocinare/pseuds/Sermocinare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the unicorns left earth due to mankind's cruelty, there has always been one of them walking among us, to keep humanity from falling into despair. This time, that unicorn is Adrian. But what happens when the Harbinger of Hope doesn't want to be an immortal myth any longer, and tries to be human instead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned by a meta discussion on the Watchmen kinkmeme. Also, I can't resist supernatural AUs, or unicorns for that matter.

What is right is not necessarily the same as what makes us happy, he reminded himself.

No one really wanted to go back. Humanity had hunted and killed them. Humanity had hurt their bodies with rocks, spears and arrows, but worse that that was the wound humanity had left in their hearts. Humans were volatile, fickle. One moment, they were holding a child in their arms, and the next they were stabbing a knife through each other's chest. But as long as there was hope, humanity was not lost.

Hope, that was what they were. Hope and joy in their purest form. They were the spark that ignited the flame of goodness in the hearts of those capable of it, and the moment they had retreated from Earth, all the fires had died, leaving only the blackest of night. So they had decided that one of them would always be there, would brave all the sorrow, the violence and horrors so that humanity had a chance of surviving.

He stood in front of the portal, alone. That was how it was, how it always had been. Loneliness was the heaviest burden the Harbinger of Hope had to bear, from the moment he was chosen until the moment he came back through the portal, back to those of his kind. The world of humans was closed off to them, except on this one night every 100 years. And so he stood, and waited, patiently.

It seemed like the birth of a star, something he had seen often over the millennia, only that instead of light, there was darkness being born. A deep, rich, liquid darkness that swirled and condensed, until it exploded, in the blink of an eye, filling the space between the two tall obelisks. Taking a deep breath, he looked around one last time, taking every bit, every tiny detail to mind. Then, he lowered his head and stepped forward, hooves falling soundlessly on the soft ground. His horn, a shimmering, iridescent beacon in the balmy night, pierced the darkness ahead. As the new Harbinger of Hope stepped into the world of men, the old one stepped out. There had never been more than one.

It took him some time to get accustomed to his new body. Walking on two legs was disorienting at first, and he never knew what to do with his hands when he was not using them, so he developed a habit of clasping them behind his back. This also made it easier to stay upright, to not fall into slouching, subconsciously trying to get his body aligned in a way that felt more like what he was accustomed to.

And so, he began his long vigil. He watched, observed, walking among them, but never really one of them. He developed an interest in human culture, fascinated by their ability to create so much beauty out of nothing more than their minds, their imaginations.

When he finally noticed what had happened, it was already far too late. He had fallen in love with humanity. There was a yearning in his heart, subtle but undeniable. Like a tree growing on a mountain, the soft tips of its roots burrowing through the bedrock, love had rooted in his heart, and now he could not get rid of it. After more than half a century, it was not enough to simply observe any more. He wanted to experience. He did not want to just walk among them, he wanted to walk with them. See what they saw, feel what they felt. Be what they were.

Even though his whole body had changed when he had walked through the portal, his horn was still there, spiralling from his forehead, unnoticeable to anyone but himself, a reminder of who, what, he really was. It was the seat of his immortality, a glowing beacon that kept him connected to his home, his people. The key to the portal, without which he would be lost in this world forever, and the one thing that kept him apart from everyone else.

Tearing and breaking, the pain in his skull was nothing compared to the agony in his soul. He could feel the very core of his being fissure and crack, and for a moment, he almost faltered. But he had to do this. For love. His body would heal, and so would his soul. He would fill the wound with beauty, and never look back, because he belonged here now. Among humans, mortals, as one of them. Laughing with joy even as blood ran down his face, he flung his horn into the sea, watching it disappear beneath the waves without a trace.

Years later, the man now known as Adrian Veidt would tell people that, during a vision quest following the route of Alexander the Great, he had had a life-altering vision that compelled him to become a champion of humanity. Once, someone had asked him if he had been driven by the desire to become immortal. Adrian smiled gracefully and admitted to the sin of pride, all while quietly laughing to himself at the irony of the question.

The idea to become a costumed vigilante came to him shortly after he had arrived in America. He had read about them in the newspapers, and could not get them out of his mind. He felt himself drawn to the idea of doing something tangible for a change, something that had an impact he could see, feel. Costumed heroes, it seemed, made the world a better place. They helped those in need, punished the wicked, and inspired hope in those who witnessed their deeds, the latter something that came as natural to Adrian as breathing.

Then, there was the rush of experiencing his own mortality. They were immortal beings, creatures who knew neither old age nor death. They knew pain, but that had been different, too. The first time someone shoved him off a roof, and he fell, fell until he hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind right out of him and made his vision go black, he realized he had never really known pain quite like this before. Pain had been a nuisance, something more akin to a strong, persistent itch. Now, pain reminded him that his existence was not endless any more, but in fact could end at any given moment, and this made being alive all the sweeter.

Still, Adrian was never reckless. He was a fast learner, both in body and mind, and even though he had been clumsy in his first few years, over sixty years of living in this body had given him almost complete control over even its most subtle movements. He knew the strength and speed of every muscle, every reaction and reflex his body held, something that served him well in his nightly activities.

Even defeat held something to be gained from it. Adrian had been looking into the disappearance of one of the other vigilantes, and the bits and pieces he found led him to believe that another one of them, who called himself the Comedian, might know something about it. He didn’t even think that the Comedian had anything to do with it, just that he might have some information, but as soon as Adrian had made it clear why he had approached the Comedian, the other man had buried his fist in Adrian’s stomach. It shouldn’t have been a problem to hold him off, but instead of focusing on the fight, Adrian’s mind had reeled with one single question: why? Why was he being attacked, when they should have been on the same side?

Of course, Adrian knew about deceit. Or so he had thought, right up to that night, but he found out that deceit was a lot like pain. It was different once it actually mattered. Berating himself for his own naïveté, Adrian sat with his aching back leaning against the wall, spitting out the blood that was running from his nose down the back of his throat. He should have been prepared for this. In hindsight, it was pretty clear that the other vigilante did not just have information on the disappearance of Hooded Justice, but probably had had a hand in it. But Adrian, in his innocent belief that every one of them had the same reasons for doing what they did, had not wanted to see this. He had blocked it out, refused to see. A very human failing. Or maybe it wasn’t human at all. Maybe his being apart, his having been an outsider watching a play instead of taking part in it, had made him ignore the darker feelings the human heart held. Feelings like greed, sadism, betrayal. And hate. Another thing he thought he had known about, and which now turned out to be a lot different from what he had thought it would be.

After a while, it became apparent to Adrian that he wasn't making all that much of a difference. For every criminal he put in jail, another would spring up to fill the now vacant niche, like so many heads of a Hydra. His solitary heroics, while certainly appreciated by those directly affected by them, were no more than short sparks in a gathering dusk. No, he would have to do more to hold off the threat of darkness he had begun to feel in his bones, and so he made up his mind to try and unite all those solitary sparks into a bright fire. Also, while he had never had a problem with a solitary life before and still didn't mind being alone, he had noticed himself craving the company of others now and then. Others like him. Other humans. It would be nice to be able to share his feelings of joy and sorrow, and really take part in the lives of others instead of being just a random blip on the edge of the screen.

When the other masks started to arrive, he felt an inexplicable nervousness rise in his stomach, not unlike the feeling he had whenever he made the decision to get out of the shadows and into the fray of a fight. They were all rather unusual people, but then again, he probably should not be surprised. Or, for that matter, judging. The Comedian was there, too, but Adrian decided to try his best to simply ignore the man. There were more important things at stake here than his personal feelings towards one or any of the masked community.

Rorschach and the second Nite Owl, whom Adrian knew were usually working together, had also arrived together, making a rather showy appearance via Nite Owl's airship. Adrian could not help but be fascinated by the machine. He had seen some of the first motorized planes move rather sluggishly through the clouds, and now, not even a century later, here was this elegant orb that hung in the air as if gravity was just an illusion. The owlship was a tribute both to human ingenuity and its sense of aesthetics. Its inventor could have given it any shape, but he had chosen to let technology imitate and improve on nature.

They were a strange pair, the faceless man and the owl. Adrian felt almost instantly drawn towards Nite Owl and the air of sincere, hopeful eagerness that surrounded him. He seemed like a man whose main motivation was the need for helping and comforting others. At the same time, there was something about him that, if one noticed such things, made Adrian suspect that he was somehow lost in this world. As if he belonged to another, just like Adrian had not too long ago.

The faceless Rorschach, on the other hand, made Adrian’s hackles rise, like a gust of cold wind blowing down his spine. Even though he couldn’t see the man’s eyes, Adrian nonetheless felt as if he was being watched. Inspected, almost. There was something decidedly disconcerting about the way the black and white pattern on Rorschach’s mask was always changing, never settling for one pattern, one thing. As if it was searching for something.

The most interesting person, if that word could even be applied, arrived last. With a flash of blue light that reminded Adrian of the birth of a star, the being known as Dr. Manhattan materialized in the room, and immediately, all eyes turned on him. Reading about Dr. Manhattan, Adrian had always felt as if here was someone whom he might be able to relate to, even though the blue demigod seemed to be his polar opposite in terms of origin. Whereas Adrian had gone from immortal myth to mortal human, Jon Osterman had ascended to something far beyond human. Well, ascended was the term often used by the press and public, but in private, Adrian doubted if Dr. Manhattan’s new existence was really that much better than his old one had been. Things like beauty, passion and love usually didn’t survive the scrutiny of a gaze able to see sub-atomic particles and the vast expanse of the universe at once.

But the meeting Adrian had put so much hope in turned out to be a complete disaster, the idea of uniting their efforts to make a real difference being shot down before it could even get off the ground. Although the right phrase would be “nuked”, Adrian mused, his gloved finger running over a speck of burnt paper, turning it into a trail of ashes across the board where the only things left of his plan were thumbtacks and a small corner of twisted, charred paper.

“You know, mankind's been trying to kill each other off since the beginning of time; now, we finally have the power to finish the job. Ain't nothing gonna matter once those nukes start flying; we'll all be dust.”

Was that really what people thought these days? That everything was hopeless, senseless, their existence a mere prelude to certain death by global apocalypse? Adrian shook his head, fingers rubbing at the slight headache that was starting up inside his skull. No, that just couldn’t be. He had watched humanity go through two of the most horrible, devastating wars, and come out of them with their will to live, continue and re-build their world still intact. Humanity had never lost hope, so why…

Adrian’s fingers froze, his whole body seemingly turning to ice. A slight tremble started up in the pit of his stomach, and by the time he had reached the bathroom, his hands were shaking like leaves in an autumn wind, so he grabbed the edge of the sink, leaning on the basin, holding himself up. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, the only thing he could see was the dark smear of ash in the middle of his forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

Giving up fighting crime had been a hard decision. Patrolling the streets at night, helping those in need and thwarting those bent on evil had always fulfilled a certain need in him, and it had made him feel alive like nothing else could. Still, Adrian knew that those days were over. He had more important things to concentrate his efforts on.

The Keene Act had come as no surprise to him. In a world that was quickly losing hope, those who stubbornly tried to cling to it were seen as a nuisance at best, and at worst as a threat. He and his fellow vigilantes had quickly become outdated, like the armoured knight with the advent of gunpowder.

So now, Adrian was a businessman. He had caught the right point to bank in on the turning tide, and had sold the masses a pale imitation of hope in form of nostalgia, the memories of better, brighter days. Late at night, when he was alone overlooking a sleeping city, he sometimes felt a pang of guilt over that. Doing it felt as if he were selling his soul, piece by little piece, but he quickly chased those thoughts away. It was a small price to pay.

Adrian’s face popped up in the papers and magazines more and more often. He was quickly becoming recognizable, a part of that great, spinning web of human culture. They were turning him into an icon.

As it turned out, this was to have unintended consequences. One day, after his secretary had left for the evening, Adrian found himself faced with his past in the form of the Comedian, who slapped about half a dozen of black and white photos down on Adrian’s desk. For a moment, Adrian felt the sickening burn of hatred flare up in his gut, but he tried his best to just ignore it.

“So there I was at this suit-and-tie event, celebration of America’s war heroes, big thing, lots of brass, and they were having this photo exhibit, and guess what I saw?” Blake was saying in a conversational tone, and went on without leaving Adrian a chance to make a guess: “This. Care to explain it to me?”

The Comedian grinned, a familiar predatory glint in his eyes, but there was something else. He seemed less sure of himself than his little speech would have let on, and there was an air of caution around him that Adrian had not seen before.

Pulling the photos towards him, Adrian quickly flipped through them, and as the sense of familiarity grew, so did the small crystal of fear that had lodged itself in his heart. But he would never let it show. He had been playing this particular game of obfuscation for too long, and he could not afford to lose now. Not at this point, not before everything was done.

Putting on an air of disinterest and annoyance, he pushed the pictures back towards the other side of his desk, where the Comedian was standing, arms folded across his chest: “They look like photographs of an allied field hospital in World War Two. Why are you bothering me with this?”

“There,” Blake said, sliding one of the photos back to the middle of the wooden desk, and tapping a section of the background with his finger, “that’s you. Right back there. Care to tell me why you’re looking exactly like you’re looking now, except for the hair and the British field medic’s uniform, when you should’ve been a kid and on the other side of the fucking war?”

The Comedian was glowering at him menacingly, and Adrian frowned, picking up the print and feigning to look at the spot Blake had indicated. After a moment, he curled his lips into a smile of mild amusement: “Why, that does look a bit like me. But I can assure you, it’s not.” Putting the photo down, he looked up at Blake: “As you said, I was a child at that time, and yes, my parents were on the, ah, other side, regrettably. You see,” he went on, in the tone one adopts when speaking to a curious but slightly annoying child, “it’s fairly easy to confuse people in these photographs. Black and white, they don’t capture the detail, and the film wasn’t very good quality.” He indicated something with an elegant finger: “See here, that little flare right next to the head of the person you thought was me? Indicates that there was a flaw in the negative. Unless, of course, you think that person really does have a horn growing out of his head.”

He leaned back, steepling his fingers in front of his chest, his still smiling face turning cold: “Is there anything else I can do for you? I do have important work to do, you know.”

The Comedian looked at him for a moment, brow furrowing, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. For a moment, he looked like he was going to protest, but then he just gathered the photographs and left, but not before leaving Adrian with a growled threat: “I’ll be keeping my eyes on you, rich boy.”

It was only after the door had slammed behind the other man that Adrian narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You do that,” he muttered, “and I’ll be doing the same.”

\------

He hated having to kill anybody, even someone as despicable as Blake. Adrian knew that it was necessary, that it was the only way to right his mistake, but that did not make it any easier. All those deaths, screaming at him with a united voice that carried from the future. They gnawed at his conscience like some small animal, a parasite embedded in his thoughts, causing a pain just above the threshold of being noticeable at all. Draining his strength, his resolve until one day there would be nothing left but a hollowed-out shell.

When he reached the door to Blake’s apartment, he almost turned back. There had to be another way. But he knew that there was not. His plan had to be protected, or humanity would be lost.

“Only a matter of time, I suppose.”

Adrian did not say anything, just stood there, watching, waiting, unable to strike the first blow in spite of the reassuring words he had just told himself.

Then, the world exploded into motion, Adrian’s body moving as if of its own accord, in a violent dance of blocks and blows that had embedded itself deep into his muscle and bone. It was almost dreamlike, as if he were watching himself through the eyes of an uncaring, emotionless observer.

It was over in less than a minute. The fire had left Blake’s eyes, and all that was left was a muted, calm acceptance of the unavoidable. And, Adrian realized, recognition. He had seen it before, that tiny little flicker in the eyes of those whose vision was cloaked by the shadows of death closing in on them. As if their souls, standing on the threshold to eternity, suddenly remembered all the history that the living only knew as myths and legends.

But something was different. Previously, when the dying had laid eyes on him, he had seen the fear and pain vanish from their faces, and be replaced by a serene, almost joyous hope. There was nothing of that sort visible now. Instead, there was confusion, pain and fear.  
“This is a joke, right?” A chuckle, choked and sticky with blood, escaped the Comedian’s chest, and his face contorted into a pained grin: “I always knew something was wrong with you, but, oh boy… mother forgive me.”

Blake’s pupils went wide, as if he was trying to take in the vastness of the universe, and for a moment, Adrian could see himself reflected in those depths, could see his face, drawn with anger and spattered with blood, and his eyes, dark and deep and inhuman. Adrian screamed then, flinging the body of the Comedian against the plate glass windows of his high-rise apartment, which shattered under the onslaught, raining tiny bits of glass like stars on the carpet and the sidewalk below.

When, a few days later, it became necessary to end the lives of both Mr. Chess and Mr. Jacobi, Adrian made sure to not look into their eyes as they died. He could not, would not let his resolve fail now. Not when he was so close to restoring the hope that even he himself was beginning to lose.

The facility did not have an official name, but most of the researchers and staff referred to it as New Avalon. The architecture, designed by Veidt himself, was something that would have attracted scores of tourists and admirers, had it not been for the fact that the whole complex stood atop an ice cliff in the Antarctic. With its gently sloping roofs, the arches and pillars that grew like trees from the ground and its winding spiral patters and layout, it seemed less like a man-made structure and more like a piece of otherworldly forest transplanted into the permanent winter of the icy continent.

Most of the time, the researchers were left to themselves here, free to experiment with any ideas that would mean a step towards the ultimate goal – a brighter, better tomorrow. Occasionally, though, Adrian would pay a visit to the facility, where he could be seen discussing ideas with the scientists and engineers, watching the dazzling array of TV screens that almost covered one entire wall of the central hallway, or simply prowling the corridors along with Bubastis, both of them moving with the same eerie, almost otherworldly grace.

Bubastis had been a surprise birthday present from the genetics department. There had been a long discussion about whether to use a lynx or a wolf as a base, but in the end, people had agreed that Mr. Veidt, with his solitary lifestyle and ever-present air of detachment, was probably more of a cat person. She had been a spirited little thing, snarling and batting at any hand with a ferocity that, in such a small cub, had been entirely more adorable than threatening. She had bitten the researcher who had handed her to Adrian squarely on the wrist, but as soon as Adrian had held her in his arms, she had calmed down, mewling and licking his palm. When the researcher, who was pressing a handkerchief to the bloody pinpoints on her wrist, had laughingly expressed her wonderment at that, Adrian had simply shrugged, smiling enigmatically: “I’ve always been good with animals. What is she?”

They had laid out her genetic makeup to him, enthusiastically explaining how the different strands of feline genes had been woven together to create her. Adrian had asked if there were others, but the head researcher had shaken his head. No, there were none. She was the only one of her kind, unique. Adrian had held her up, looking at her small, fragile form, and some of the researchers would later tell their colleagues that there had been something in his eyes, a sadness that seemed too deep and old for someone his age.

They were dead now, and it would take the world a few days before it noticed the disappearance of these few, their number simply paling in comparison to all the other lives lost. For now, Adrian and Bubastis were alone, two strange, lonely creatures surveying the world through the flickering screens in front of them.

The multitude of eyes that surrounded Avalon told Adrian that they would not be alone for much longer, though.


	3. Chapter 3

“Adrian. We know everything.” Dan’s voice was hoarse with pain and shock, and Adrian felt almost sorry for him. But how could he feel sorry for one man, one lone human being in the middle of this?

“No,” Adrian said, shaking his head slightly, smiling sadly, “no, I honestly don’t think you do. But if you say you have it all figured out, well, then what’s there to discuss?”

“Plenty. You killed Comedian.” Rorschach now, snarling, as unintimidated as ever. Adrian wondered if the man with the black and white mask really knew what he had gotten into, or if his broken mind had just reduced it to tidy little pieces, pieces he could understand.

“May he rest in peace. Blake figured it out first. He had been keeping tabs on me for years.” Adrian half-turned, seemingly calm, but keeping watch on Rorschach from the corner of his eyes. Rorschach would never give up, so much was sure. Still, there was a small flicker of hope in Adrian’s chest that he might be able to make him, both of them, see the necessity of his doing. “Blake found out what I was doing, and by the time he visited poor Moloch he was cracking badly. I thought he might have a change of heart, see the whole picture, but he didn’t. So, I had to kill him.”

Adrian had dropped his voice on the last sentence, a subtle warning to his former colleagues about the lengths he would go to to protect his vision, but Rorschach didn’t heed it. Neither of them did. If they would only listen, would only let him explain, he could make them understand.

“We were supposed to make the world a better place!” There it was again, the shock, the deep, almost childlike disappointment in Dan’s voice. And he was right, more than he knew.

“Dan, that’s exactly what I am doing.” Adrian looked from one to the other, his voice rising with urgency.

“Through nuclear war? Human extinction?” Dan snapped, launching himself at Adrian, who blocked him, sidestepping, trying to make both men finally give up their fruitless attacks without harming them more than absolutely necessary.

“No,” Adrian said, shaking his head, ascending the wide flight of stairs that led up to the next level, trying to put some distance between himself and the men on the ground. He was tired of fighting, and almost tired of explaining. How could he make them see? Believe?

“Not human extinction,” he continued, turning around to face them again, “just a healthy shock. A practical joke, if you will. You see, the Comedian was right. Unhindered, untempered by things like love, or beauty, or hope… man’s savage nature will ultimately lead to global annihilation. This way, only some have to die. A few key regions across the globe, New York, Los Angeles, Moscow, Hong Kong. Disintegrated in seconds, by Dr. Manhattan himself.”

“Jon wouldn’t do that.” There it was again, the shock and despair in Daniel’s voice. There would be lots of it right now, all around the globe. People screaming, crying, shocked and frightened almost out of their minds. Adrian could almost hear them in his mind, their cries echoing all over his soul, a part of himself cringing away from what he had done.

“A fact no one outside of this room ever has to know. All these years, Jon was helping me  
replicate his power, unaware of how I planned to use it.” Adrian took a step towards Rorschach and Nite Owl, unclasping his hands and spreading them in front of him in an almost pleading gesture: “I had to do it. I had to set things right again.”

“By killing millions?” Dan shook his head, incredulous at Adrian’s words.

“To save billions!” Adrian shot back, spinning on his heel, quickly ascending the last of the stone steps.

“You know we can’t let you do that.” The determination in Rorschach’s low, gravely voice was almost frightening, but this was exactly why Adrian had gone through all of this. From determination, from the dogged will to keep alive, to keep going, hope might arise.

“Do that, Rorschach?” Adrian’s voice was tired, and he let his shoulders slump slightly, yet there was a small, almost wistful smile on his face. “I’m not a comic book villain. Do you seriously think I’d explain my masterstroke to you if there were even the slightest possibility you’d affect the outcome? I triggered it 35 minutes ago.”

A flash of light obliterated every color, shape and detail before retreating in on itself, leaving ghostly afterimages in its wake. Adrian had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but it seemed that his hope had been futile.

Jon strode towards him, unhurried and unstoppable like a wave rolling towards the shore.  
“Must stop him. Killed Blake, killed millions.”  
Jon didn’t even seem to notice Rorschach. It was only when Dan spoke, his eyes flickering between Adrian and Jon, that he showed any kind of reaction to the two men’s presence.  
“Jon… how could any human being… anyone do such a thing?”  
“He is not,” Jon said, his attention never leaving Adrian. “Human. Not at all.”  
It was at that point that Adrian turned and ran.

Bubastis had followed his lead, bounding away behind him, keeping close, but she was a creature of instinct, and her first instinct had always been to protect him. His finger hovering above the button, Adrian fought the urge to call out to her, to go back and get her out of harm’s way. But he couldn’t wait any longer, not if he wanted his plan to succeed. Besides, there had to be sacrifices. He had told himself this a thousand times, thinking he knew what it meant.  
“Forgive me, girl,” he whispered, then pressed his fingers down on the button, watching the intrinsic field subtractor tear her body apart, turning her from a beautiful, unique creature into… nothing. Not even dust, no trace that she had ever existed. He was once again alone in the world.

Turning away from the panel, Adrian slowly ascended the staircase. He felt exhausted, tired to his very bones, as if he had been running all day.  
“What did he mean, you’re not human?”  
Daniel’s question assaulted him as soon as he stepped into view again, and Adrian clasped his hands behind his back, his face and tone impassive:  
“He meant just what he said, Daniel. I’m not human.”

“No. You’re a monster.” Laurie’s voice, harsh and angry, but what caught his attention weren’t her words, but the slight clicking noise that came at their very end. Turning around slowly, Adrian looked into her eyes, deep, dark and burning with anger, then at her hand, which was holding the gun, and he knew she didn’t mean to just wound him. She meant to kill him, and in a way, he wanted her to. But he wasn’t done here yet. He still had his duty to fulfil.

Laurie’s finger squeezed the trigger, and his hand shot up, his body angling away, out of the line of the bullet. A searing pain shot through his hand and up his arm, so powerful it took away his breath and made his vision go black, sending him careening down the stairs and ending up sprawled on the floor, dazed. He could hear footfalls approaching, stopping right next to him. Without opening his eyes, he struck out with his foot, then pulled his legs underneath himself, crouching on the floor like a wounded tiger.

Daniel was fussing over Laurie, who lay crumpled on the steps. The pain was still throbbing through his arm, even after he pulled the bullet from his palm with a short hiss, and somehow, at that point, things started to give. The guilt he had been carrying around for years, the loneliness, the frustration at his inability to connect to humans even though he had given away his immortality, all of this had fissured his soul, and now he imagined he could feel it finally cracking like some brittle china cup that had been gripped too tight.

“She’s right, you know,” he said, his voice clipped, angry. Frowning at the bullet, he tossed it to the side, then rose from his crouch. “I am a monster. Just because I look human doesn’t mean that I am. Oh, I tried. I wanted to be human more than anything else in my life. And believe me,” he smirked, looking at them, their faces turned to him in utter confusion, “I’ve lived for a very long time. I have seen stars be born and wink out again, but still, I wanted to be like you.” He took a deep breath, then sighed, turning away: “I guess I failed. But then, it was a stupid, egoistical thing to begin with. And now, millions of innocent people have to pay for my mistake.”

“He’s gone completely insane.” Daniel was looking from him to Rorschach and then Laurie, eyes wide, unable to accept Adrian’s words as the truth. But then, Adrian hadn’t really thought he would.

“I am disappointed in you, Adrian. Very disappointed.” Jon’s voice was so loud, so all-encompassing that for a moment, Adrian wondered if he had really heard it, or if it had been only in his mind. But then, a hand descended from the heavens, smashing through wood and glass like brushing aside cobwebs, wiping away all doubt. Adrian stood frozen in fear for a few seconds, only managing to finally throw himself to the ground and out of the reach of those giant fingers at the very last moment. “Reassembling myself was the first trick I learned. It didn’t kill Osterman. Did you really think it would kill me?”

Jon was shrinking, his voice no longer booming as if inside Adrian’s very thoughts, but that did not diminish the terror Adrian felt at his approach. Jon was looking at him with a curious expression, something almost akin to pity in his voice: “I have walked across the surface of the sun. I have witnessed events so tiny and so fast, they can hardly be said to have occurred at all. Someone like you, Adrian, should really know better than to think that you pose a threat to me.”

Never taking his eyes off Jon, Adrian was fumbling through the debris and shreds of glass that covered the floor until at last his fingers closed around the remote control that had fallen to the floor at Rorschach’s first attack, unnoticed and almost forgotten by everyone except him. It should be all over the news by now, both the explosions and their expected effects. Adrian was sure he had made the correct predictions, but even so, a tiny sliver of doubt remained. If it hadn’t worked out the way he had planned, anything Jon or the others might do to him would be a mercy.

Picking up the remote, Adrian smiled, exhaustion and adrenaline making him feel somewhat light-headed.  
“What’s that?” Jon said, his voice unchanged, “Another ultimate weapon?”  
Adrian looked at him, his gaze drawn into the demigod’s eyes, which were as deep and endless as those of his people. Then, he pointed the device back at the wall of monitors: “Yes. You could say that.”

The screen flickered to life, and for once, there was no confusing disarray of images, not wild jumble of sights and sounds. At this very moment, humanity was united, with only one thought on its mind. They watched for a moment. Then, Adrian turned to face the others, relief flooding through him, washing away all the guilt and horror for a precious moment: “Do you see? Two superpowers retreating from war. I did it. I set it right again. I did what I was meant to do.”

“We were meant to exact justice.” Rorschach growled, fists balled at his side, looking as if he were going to launch himself at Adrian again.

“No,” Adrian shook his head, smiling to himself, “you were meant to exact justice. I was meant to bring hope, to keep humanity from falling into despair and destruction. I almost forgot that, for a while. But I guess I can’t change what I am, mortal or immortal. And I shouldn’t have tried.”

“What do you mean? What are you?”

Adrian turned his eyes on Daniel, then looked at Jon, his eyes pleading: “Can you show them? I can’t. I’ve spent too much time being mortal, my body won’t change, no matter how much I want it to.”  
Jon nodded slightly, reaching out a hand in Adrian’s direction.

It was pure agony. He did not remember it being this bad when he had stepped through the gate, his body changing for the first time. He felt as if his bones were being ripped from their sockets, every fibre of muscle torn and shredded. He wanted to scream, but there was no air left in his lungs.

Finally, it was over, and Adrian stood unsteadily, his legs shaking, almost buckling under the weight of his body. He just stood there for a moment, inhaling deeply, nostrils shaking, flanks expanding with his breath. Carefully setting his cloven hooves on the smooth wooden floor, he advanced towards a large shard of glass that was lying on the ground, his lion’s tail swishing the air nervously. Bending his long neck towards the ground, he looked at himself in the semi-reflecting surface, ears pricked forward in anticipation. He hadn’t seen himself for a long, long time, and the reflection that looked back at him filled him with both joy and terror. He was still beautiful, but now, instead of an iridescent spear of bone spiralling elegantly from his forehead, there was nothing. Just a dark, black mark, a lump of barely healed scar tissue marring his face. He turned his head, looking back at Jon.

“I can’t show them what isn’t there.” This time, the pity in Jon’s voice was all too apparent. Still, he turned to look at the others, at Daniel, Rorschach, Laurie. And there was recognition in their eyes. Not much, just a tiny spark, as if they were unearthing a long-lost childhood memory, but still, it was enough. They knew what he was. Or rather, what he had been.

Please, he sent the thought out to Jon, hoping that he would hear him, turn me back. I can’t stand to be like this. Even if it kills me, turn me back. Make me human again, I beg you.

There was a ghost of a smile on Jon’s features, and the world went black.

When Adrian awoke, he was so cold he couldn’t even shiver. A thin layer of snow was dusting the ground and his body, and it took him a few attempts before he managed to stand up. He was alone. Pulling his cape around him, Adrian stumbled into the deeper recesses of the building, until he had found a room that was still warm, and let himself slide down to the floor, shuddering. He must have fallen asleep, or left unconscious again, because when he awoke, he was no longer alone. Jon was standing in front of him, looking down at him with a curious expression.

“I set it right again, didn’t I?” Adrian mumbled, his mind still foggy with cold and exhaustion. “In the end?”

“In the end?” Again, there was an almost wistful smile on Jon’s features. “Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends.”

Some fourteen years later, Adrian Veidt was sitting in the middle of a small forest, while around him the world was celebrating the dawn of a new millennium. He didn’t know how long he would have to wait, but wait he would, hidden away among the dense trees and underbrush. He had to see it with his own eyes. At last, there was a shimmering in the air, and a pinpoint of light appeared, rapidly expanding to form a doorway. The gateway to home. He looked at it, his heart filled with longing, reaching out a hand towards the light that would stay forever out of his reach. He watched as the new Harbinger of Hope stepped into the world, unsteady, collapsing to her knees the moment she came through the gate, and smiled.  
“Good luck. I hope you’ll do better than I did.”  
With that, he turned around, leaving the forest behind. Two weeks later, the papers would report him as missing, never to be seen again.


End file.
